


Wait

by SentientMango



Series: Wait For You [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Crying, Feelings, Grief/Mourning, Hospitals, House fire implied, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Prinxiety - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 13:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SentientMango/pseuds/SentientMango
Summary: Sirens. There were always sirens. He should have been faster. Maybe then Virgil wouldn't be here. Maybe then Virgil would be alright. Now who knows how he's doing. He's alone. Hurt. And all Roman can do is wait.





	Wait

Tick.

Tock.

Tick. 

Tock. 

The clock on the wall tick on like a metronome. The insistent ticking was going to drive him insane. It hard enough to wait here with no visible sighs that anything was going to be alright.

Tick.

Tock.

It was his fault. He should have been there. He could have protected him, but he wasn't there, and now everything was up in flames, literally. 

Tick. 

What if Virgil was dying? What if Roman could never see him again? Could he live without him?

Tick. 

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The white of the waiting room was dazzlingly bright. Roman closed his eyes. He was tired, sure, but he wouldn't be sleeping. He was just resting his eyes. Roman's eyes drifted shut, his heavy eyelids resting on his dry eyes, but he wouldn't fall asleep, no matter how tempting it was. He could stay awake... 

"---- up?"

"Let him rest for now. There is nothing he could do." 

Roman blinked his eyes opened to see two worried medical professionals chatting. The white that clad the doctors was to bright to look at, like the walls. Roman blinked his tired eyelids against the harsh light. He was slouched down in the chair he was sitting in, the arm of which dug into his back, as he attempted to pull himself more upright. This action caught the attention of one of the two clad in white, they mumbled something to the other. 

A doctor, who had an unreadible expression on their face approach Roman, and cautiously asked, "Roman Storm?" 

"Yes, that's me." Roman responded, unsure of how he should interpret the doctor's tone or body language. 

"Uh, could you follow me please?" 

Roman was taken into an office. More white. It was blindingly bright. Why did everything in this hospital have to be white? Roman was told take a seat, and wait there. Roman sat down on the chair on the far right; Virgil always sat on the left. It was the way it always was.

Roman looked around the room, grimacing at the brightness that encompassed the room. At least the chairs are black. When Virgil comes he'll be happy about that, if nothing else. 

After a while a middle agged woman walked in alone. Roman regarded her warily. Why was Virgil not with her? What was going on? 

The tension between the two grew larger and larger, stronger and stronger. Until, she extended her hand, "Roman Storm? I'm Dr. Jennifer Stuart." 

Roman stood and shook the doctor's hand before sitting down again. The dark cloud of distrust, fear, and wariness that was devoid of warmth, still hovered ominously above them, although it no longer filled the entire room. 

"So Mr. Storm, you are here for your husband, Virgil, correct?" 

"Yes. Yes, that is correct. Is everything alright?" 

Dr. Stuart paused, "Unfortunately, no." She took a deep breath, "This isn't easy to say, and it will never be, but Virgil's injuries were too severe. We did everything we could for him. He um.. he passed away. I--"

As if Roman was on a roller coaster, his stomach fell. Bumps raced up his arms, as a chill ran down his spine.

Virgil... dead? 

His throat was tight; the air in the room felt thin. Roman took ragged breaths. He couldn't get enough air. 

His lungs felt too small for his body as Roman gasped for breath. 

How? No. No! This wasn't possible. This wasn't _**fair!**_ Virgil... he couldn't be... He couldn't be dead. 

Roman didn't remeber yelling at the doctor. 

He didn't remember storming out of the tiny office.

He didn't remember collapsing on the floor. 

He didn't remember the words he cried for his husband.

He didn't remember being escorted into a patient's room.

He didn't remember falling asleep on the bed.

When Roman woke up, he remembered. 

He remembered the pain. 

He remembered the feeling of helplessness. 

He remembered the feeling of dread.

He remembered the calm words a nurse spoke as he fell asleep. 

He remembered the tears that rolled down his cheek as he drifted off to sleep.

He remembered Virgil. 

He remembered he could never see Virgil again. 

He remembered he would never be able to hold Virgil again. 

He remembered his husband was gone. 

Forever.

Roman sat up on the bed, and looked at the empty space in front of him. He could practicality see Virgil.

His husband, who was gone, stood before him as a figment of his imagination. It was as if he was there with Roman, but Roman knew he wasn't. Every detail. Every mark. It was just off, just wrong. 

It wasn't Virgil. The face was too smooth, the eyes too bland. He could never perfectly imagine Virgil's beauty. Virgil's deep brown eyes stared back at him, unblinking. 

His patchwork hoodie that Roman had helped make so long ago, fell loose around his figure. The hood fell just over his left eye, concealing the scar that Roman knew lay just above his eyebrow. He got it on their first valentine's day together, they had gone to a couples cooking class, because frankly neither of them could cook very well. Virgil had gone to pick up something, Roman couldn't remember what, and Roman had turned around and accidentally cut him with a knife he was holding. 

Virgil had laughed... His face had lit up like one thousand fireworks lighting up the nights sky. It is a beautiful thing to witness, one of Virgil's rare, and real smiles.

Roman suddenly wimpered. He would never see it again. 

Virgil would never light up a room with his laugh, or shine so bright Roman might as well be looking into the sun. That was gone. He was gone. 

Roman glanced up at the blank wall as Virgil started to reemerge from little cracks and divots in the wall.

"I'm sorry." Roman sobbed, "I wanted to protect you, I wanted to be there. You... It should have been me."

Roman half expected Virgil's voice to fill the room with its sweet tones, and warm arms to embrace his trembling body as each sob made him shake a little harder.

But nothing happened.

"You're gone, and it's all my fault." Roman cried, "I should have been there, I shouldn't have missed your call. I should have gotten there sooner. I should have called faster. I..." Roman gasped for breath, before collapsing backwards onto the wall in defeat.

He stared up at his depiction of his husband. "I can't live without you." Roman croaked, "I need you. What am I going to do Virgil? I'm lost without you. You are--- were my guiding light. Now the light in my life, the light of my light, is gone, what's left? What's left for me?"

Roman covered his eyes which just as consistently as the sun rises and sets, was pouring hot damp tears down hus cheeks. Roman sat there covering his eyes. He would rather not torture himself by staring at someone that could never come back. 

Suddenly, a familiar voice filled the room, it spoke softly, but it seemed to go and engulf Roman's being. The soft, doucette tones bounced and leaped around the room keeping it alive with anticipation.

"I'll wait."  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> It's been a minute hasn't it! Hope you enjoyed this. What do you think happened? How did you interpret it? I'm interested. Everytime I reread it I interpret it differently, so it'll be cool to see what you guys think!
> 
> ~Mango <3


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